I don't wanna in Each Day

TW: pet end of life care

I don’t want to write this. I don’t want to think about the last 48h. I don’t want to think about the next week.
But this is the shit that needs writing down.

Friday, after my work’s Christmas Lunch (where I met a guy who reminded me of a friend of ours, and then found out he and our friend were on tour together, small frigging world), I returned home to M, who was already high, and he got me some weed to catch up.
Mere moments after I ate it, Jinx walked out of the litter box room, his tail twitching. We know this means trouble. We watched him, he was holding himself awkwardly. We watched him, knowing that this was a sign his urinary crystals were back. We watched him strain, walk around, strain some more. It was when I found a drop of blood where he was straining that we kicked into gear. I knew I had about an hour before the weed kicked in, even still I did try to make myself throw up.
M got Jinx into the carrier, I got the car ready, and we headed in.
M and I have had this same conversation a million times it seems. Jinx is a “super senior”, and his continued issues with crystals were only increasing in frequency. I know there are some people who would spend every penny they have to save their pet. But in this I am pragmatic. Fortunately M and I agree. We knew that without a monetary limit we would keep going through this, Jinx’s quality of life would deteriorate slowly and we’d lose control over choosing to let him go peacefully at home, or at the vet and in pain, much like that night. This gave us a framework for how to decide how far we would go to keep him with us.
After exams and everything, the vet determined that his urine was “full of crystals”, and the ultrasound of his bladder showed an accumulation of “sludge”, even more crystals. This was worse than what I was expecting to hear. Crystals are not a big deal until they are, and this was a big fucking deal.
I need to rage here. Two months ago or so, Royal Canin had a major production disruption and now much of their vet foods are backordered. We’ve been buying the non-vet urinary food instead, but clearly it was not enough. Would this have happened if he’d stayed on his regular food? We’ll never know.
We’ve contacted a place that does home euthanasia, so we can let Jinx go in the comfort of his own home, with us and Valentino with him. We now have an appointment for Saturday at 10am. We could have done it earlier perhaps, but this week is my fitness test and I really need to get this done so my fucking life can go on and I can stop thinking about it. And I’ve volunteered to help at work holiday events… I mean, there’s never a good time to lose a pet. M was talking about waiting until after Christmas, and I pointed out the health risk to Jinx, but also being able to mourn at home together instead of trying to put on a brave face at work feels better to me. Once he had that perspective he agreed.
And this is going to sound callous, but we also have to think of Valentino. Cornish Rexes are notoriously incapable of being only cats. So now we’re on the waitlist with the breeder Vale came from. At least we will be home for the Christmas holidays with him. Going back to work in January is going to be hard on him, though.
I still wish I could adopt a kitten, I know too many rad TNR ladies, and I absolutely know better, but M has been suffering his allergies with Jinx. Feels like an excuse. It is not up to me.

Sadly my sister is also struggling with her dog’s health. Kaylee (our greyhound we rehomed in 2019) and Vallie were around the same age. She’s holding onto hope that medical intervention will work, and I hope that is the case.

So… shitty weekend, leading into a shitty week, leading into a shittier weekend.
How’s that for positivity? I’m positive it’s going to SUCK.